Sight Unseen
by revery
Summary: Post“Truth” Sequel to my fanfiction series “Still Out There”. Agent Arthur Roe has been assigned to investigate a case that involves unexplained deaths on the Navajo reservation. He calls Mulder for help.


"Sight Unseen"

Written by: revery

Plot: Agent Arthur Roe has been assigned to investigate a case that involves unexplained deaths on the Navajo reservation. Agent Roe has a special connection to the Navajo reservation and the people. Not only that, but he has a connection to former Agents Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, John Doggett and Monica Reyes. Now, it's been eight months since Will Van De Kamp has been reunited with his parents Mulder and Scully and his life still may be in danger. Agent Roe discovers that the family of Will's ex-girlfriend, Madeline Hosteen, are at the heart of the investigation and could be the next victims.

A/N: Post-"Truth" Sequel to my fanfiction series "Still Out There". Time frame: 2020.

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Files or anything that has been created by Chris Carter or 1013 Productions. I only worship.

* * *

Part One- Ripples

Kayenta, Arizona

Navajoland

The March night air was cold and Julie Begay shivered despite her long sleeves as she locked the door to her shop. She turned around and picked up a box she had sent down on the ground. She pocketed her keys and got out the ignition key for her electric-powered car. The small gravel-covered parking lot was dimly lit and she hurried to her vehicle, shoes crunching on the stones. As much as loved that the reservation scarcely changes, she did wish to invest in a more technologically advanced lighting system for the parking lot of her small jewelry shop. She got by all right as it were, selling turquoise and silver jewelry to passing tourists in search of authentic Indian artifacts. She chuckled to herself, "Indian," she muttered under her breath. Hundreds of years could go by and people would still be saying "Indian".

Her thoughts turned back to the new lighting system she would install. Perhaps a solar-powered one that would charge using the sun's energy during the day and keep the parking lot aglow at night. It wouldn't be expensive since the lot was small; she smiled thinking of the benefits. She reached her vehicle and she hummed to keep warm as she loaded a box into the trunk of her car.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose suddenly and she knew it wasn't from the cold. Before she could turn around to see what had made her neck prickly, she was shoved hard against her car. She hit her head hard against the fiberglass frame and slid down. She heard voices but they sounded muffled and faraway. She blinked to regain focus and tried getting to her feet which she did unsteadily. She heard glass breaking and figured it was the front window to her store. Another crash and she knew it was the door.

"Hey!" She shouted even though she couldn't see who she was yelling at. She still couldn't focus, she must've hit her head harder than she initially thought. With both windows broken she knew the silent alarm had been tripped and soon the town police would be on their way. She put a hand to her temple and it felt wet, her black hair matted against it. She lifted her hand to her eyes and saw red.

Her knees buckled and she fell to the ground. Her head was pounding and she was having trouble breathing. Julie's last conscious thought was wondering why she never heard her assailant's footsteps on the gravel.

* * *

Washington DC

NPIB Headquarters

Agent Arthur Roe walked briskly through the 7th floor hallway of the NPIB building. He didn't particularly like the building. It was cold and too bright, quite different from the old J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building and Museum. Everything was gray and steel blue, adding to that cold effect. Roe preferred to work out of field offices, he was hardly was ever in the building. It gave him an uneasy feeling breathing the filtered air and hearing the low drone of electricity humming through the overhead power-saving lights. It sounded like the buzzing of a bee's nest. Roe shuddered involuntarily, remembering a bad childhood experience with the insects.

Finally, Roe reached his destination, the Assistant Director's office. He walked in and the secretary let him into the inner office. Sitting behind the desk was Assistant Director Zora, an older Middle Eastern-American man. Roe didn't mind working under A.D. Zora, he was a fair enough man. He didn't let his position of power go to his head, unlike other Assistant Directors.

Sitting in chair was a female agent Roe recognized but whose name he didn't remember. In another chair, surprising Roe, was Director of Special Projects Brad Follmer. Follmer had been an Assistant Director for the FBI. When the National Protection and Information Bureau was established he became Director of Special Projects, a job description Roe still was unsure what exactly it entailed. Follmer was also an acquaintance of former Agents John Doggett, Monica Reyes, Dana Scully, and Fox Mulder, all of whom worked on the infamous X-Files. Follmer was also Arthur Roe's maternal uncle.

Roe cleared his throat before addressing the company before him. "A.D. Zora, Director Follmer."

The female agent chuckled, "Rather formal with family aren't you?"

Roe turned to her, "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry I haven't been introduced," she stood up and stuck out her hand. "I'm Special Agent Gene Maura."

Roe took her hand and shook it. "Agent…"

"Arthur Roe," she completed for him. "Your record as well as your lineage is impressive."

"I'm sorry, who are you?" He turns to A.D. Zora. "Who is she?"

A.D. Zora, a man of unbelievable calm and poise gestured to a chair. "Sit down, Agent Roe."

Roe did as told and gave his uncle a quizzical look.

"Now," A.D. Zora continued. "Special Agent Maura has come here from the Northern Arizona field office specifically asking for you, Agent Roe. She believes you'll be able to lead a case."

Roe looked from Follmer to Zora, "Sir?"

Zora nodded, "Yes. Given your experience there, you are a natural choice to lead an investigation."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence." Roe said. "What's the case?"

"It seems there's been a series of unexplained deaths on the Navajo reservation in Arizona and New Mexico," Follmer said.

"What types of murders?"

"We never said they were," Agent Maura said. "Unexplained deaths. The tribal police haven't ruled those murders and neither have we." She looked at Roe with a coy twinkle, "Unexplained is a word you are quite familiar with, am I right, Agent?"

Roe gave her a hard look right back. He wasn't going to play whatever game she was up to. "I'm not sure what you mean, Ma'am."

She turned on the Tablet PC she had in her lap. The screen glowed and she ran her finger down to the file she wanted and opened it. She began reading. "Arthur Dale Roe, born August 11th 1991 in Denver, Colorado. Graduated from Westmore High School at 16, from UC Berkeley at 19 with a degree in Psychology-Behavioral Science, applied twice to the FBI in 2009 after that but was denied both times. Then you applied and were accepted again in 2011. You trained for a year then were assigned to the Window Rock field office in Arizona. You were accepted into the NPIB, one of 25 former FBI agents. You remained on the Navajo reservation until you were injured in a motorcycle accident in 2015. You spent a year and three months recovering, and then were transferred back to Washington DC. Stop me when this gets boring."

"You know, it is my life, I'm pretty familiar with it."

"Then how about this?" She opened a new file. "Personal Information. You are an only child. Your mother died when you were 6, you were raised by your father and mother's sister, they married a year later. Your mother's brother is Director Brad Follmer and your father has an uncle by the name Arthur Dales, who in fact was an FBI agent, one that began the X-Files."

"My father has two uncles named Arthur, an Aunt too," he raised his eyebrows for effect.

"What does this have to do with the case at hand?" Director Follmer. "Are we re-interviewing an agent for a position we all know he's qualified for."

Agent Maura turned to Follmer. Her eyes reflected none of that playfulness that they had when she looked at Roe. Instead, her face was almost sneering as if she was addressing a pest. "Director, I'm just being thorough. This case is sensitive in the least."

"I agree," Roe said. "This is all common knowledge; I had to submit a short dossier on all immediate family."

"And your whereabouts during August 2009 and February 2011?"

"I backpacked through Europe, like other wayward students do. That is in my file."

Agent Maura nodded. "You failed to mention who the other injured party was in that motorcycle accident."

Roe's jaw got tight and he stared at Agent Maura. "I was unconscious. I don't remember much about that day, or the 8 days following it."

"What do you remember?"

"Riding my motorcycle, crashing, black." Roe's tone was emotionless, but all three could see the tears form in his eyes before he blinked them away.

Agent Maura nodded. "Agent Roe, your flight is in 6 hours, I suggest you pack." She stood up. "Assistant Director Zora," she nodded. "Director Follmer." She left.

A.D. Zora slid a plane ticket across the desk to Roe, "Agent, I expect sit-reps at 7am each day."

"Yes, sir. Thank you," Roe took the ticket and left the office. Out in the hallway, he took a deep breath. He remembered Special Agent Maura now. Right before his accident he was summoned to her office to look into an unofficial case. Roe didn't remember what the case was, but dimly recalled seeing her at the hospital after he awoke from his coma.

A minute later, Follmer came out from A.D. Zora's office. "She'll be there too you know."

"I figured," Roe said. "Is she still looking into you?"

"Maura's a boa constrictor. She's not about to let go of a tasty meal like that."

Roe sighed. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"But everything that happened last year…"

Follmer turned to his nephew. "I pulled the strings to get you back here. I had to bury and burn paperwork so that no one knew about your involvement with Doggett and Reyes."

"I know, it's just… Was it worth it?"

Follmer didn't reply right away. _Was it ever worth it? _He wondered. "That's not a question to ask me. You were worth it to me. Your life and your career."

"Don't go getting all sentimental Uncle Brad, I had to come back."

"Be careful around Agent Maura, she'll be on your tail every step of the way. This case will be a jumping-off point; we'll get what we want."

Roe gave a half-smile. "Thanks. I'd better get going. I have a report to finish before I leave."

Follmer nodded, "All right." He watched Roe walk away down the long hallway. "Be careful," he added as an afterthought.

* * *

Chipping Norton, United Kingdom

February 11, 2020

Madeline woke up, drenched in a cold sweat. She walked to the kitchen to see Gibson watching TV and eating ice cream out of the carton. He didn't look up at her but spoke what she was thinking, "Another nightmare."

She nodded even though she knew she didn't have to. He handed her his spoon and she took a spoonful of the partially melted ice cream then gives it back.

Gibson continued to eat his ice cream and watch television. "This all might be your abilities advancing."

Madeline shrugged. "Maybe. Visions came in a flash, before. They were just moments that I would be able to control or change. But it was only in danger, immediate danger.

"These ones are different."

Madeline gave a little smile. Unlike most people, she didn't mind Gibson speaking in certainties. He was a mind-reader, and having telepathic abilities wasn't his fault. "Suppressing them only gives me headaches, worse than after I have a vision."

"I went two days trying to suppress hearing people's thoughts." He ate another spoonful of ice cream. "I had a seizure and spent a week in the hospital."

"I think it's all events that have happened and will."

"Goes with the advancing abilities theory."

"How did you deal with it?"

"I didn't. I heard people's thoughts all my life. I just had to work on controlling when and who." He paused, searching her weary face. "They're bad. You're worried."

She nodded. Her hand brushed her forehead.

He looked at her. "I know you're homesick. These dreams might just be about that."

"You know me, Gib. Homesickness isn't enough to make me rush into a potentially dangerous situation."

"I know. But I also know that Will is part of you wanting to go home too."

She smiled again, "No fair mind reading."

He put his hand over hers and looked her in the eyes. "Just go see him. He wants to see you."

She sighed. "I can't."

"You care about him."

"Quit stating the obvious. It's getting annoying."

"So is the way you're acting with him."

"He hasn't called me either, remember?"

"We're talking about you. Not him. Besides, I already plan on talking to him."

"I just can't, Gibson. Something's holding me back."

"Yeah, your pride."

"No," she said ruefully. "Not just that. His."

"Will has no pride."

"Exactly."

"You can't run away from him."

"I'm not the one who ran."

Gibson rolled his eyes, "You were just as scared as he was."

"I was not."

He gave her a look as if to say "you're really going to lie to me?" She glared at him.

"Okay, I was freaked out. You try discovering that you are genetically betrothed to someone you've never met." Madeline shuddered, remembering a vision she had after meeting Will. It was of her and him in the throes of passion being observed by doctors in another room. "You didn't see what I saw Gibson."

"I know. But we're all connected, you can't deny that."

Madeline sighed, Gibson had a way of making sense that she hated. Mostly because he was right 99.9 percent of the time.

"But," he continued, "do you not want to see him because there might be someone else?"

Madeline shook her head, "No," she answered honestly.

"Arthur."

Madeline stared with a confused smile, "Roe? What made you think of him?"

"Just a hunch."

Madeline glared a little. "You don't have hunches."

Gibson simply shrugged, dumped his spoon in the automatic dishwasher and put the ice-cream back in the freezer. "I have hunches." He said to her. "You don't have hunches. You have the truth."

* * *

Oxford University

Will Van De Kamp opened the door to his dormitory. He saw his roommate, Madhav, sitting at the desk typing away at his laptop.

"Still studying?" Will asked.

"I have a paper due for my Medieval Literature class in the morning," Madhav answered in a West London accent. "I'm just reading over."

Will nodded and headed over to his side of the room. It was sparsely decorated. Unlike Madhav's, who had pictures of relatives all over his desk. Will had exactly three pictures. One of his parents, Jonathan and Mona Van De Kamp, at a backyard barbecue He had rescued it from his now-destroyed home in Pine Bluffs, Wyoming. The house had burnt down, the first causality in a wild journey that brought him to his biological parents. That was the other photo. A faded one given by a friend, Dana Scully and Fox Mulder, standing somewhere in the desert, wind blowing their hair aside and their eyes squinting from the sun. They looked happy, sad, but happy. There was no denying that they were his biological parents, one only needed to take a glance to decide. Will had physical characteristics from both, his mother's fair complexion and blue eyes, his father's thick hair, only more auburn than brown, but it was something in their eyes people recognized; a sparkle.

The other photo was a more current one of Will and a Navajo girl. Madeline Hosteen had accompanied Will on his journey to find his biological parents and they became close. She was sitting on a low wall, copper skin shining and black hair cascading down her shoulder. Will was behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist and cheek against her head. They were both smiling, open mouthed and happy.

Will glanced at the photo, remembering that day. It was not long after they arrived in England to live with Will's biological parents. She had just bought a new dress. A white and blue cotton one that was light and airy, perfect for the climate she was used to, back home in New Mexico, but she loved the dress and it was warm enough to wear it. She and Will spent the day talking, as they usually did, about everything. Later they were joined by their friend Gibson Praise who brought along a camera and snapped this picture. All three shared a special bond, although they weren't related, this was a bond that was more than skin deep

Will sighed and pulled off his shirt, he got ready for bed. "Don't stay up too late Madhav or you'll miss that class."

"You're a bloody comedian Will," he mumbled, still engrossed in his paper. "Sleep well."

Will didn't sleep well. He had a recurring nightmare. It was his parents, Mona was screaming from upstairs and as hard as Will tried he couldn't make it to the stairs. He kept being pushed back by some invisible force. He watched in horror from this protective bubble as flames engulfed the stairs. His mother was screaming and Will could only darkly imagine what the fire was doing to her. Beyond the flames he saw his Aunt Bridget, a woman who had deceived him, walking up the stairs. He turned around and shouted for his father, Jonathan, but he wasn't in the house. Will looked outside and saw Jonathan standing near the horse corral, but instead of horses, there were hundreds of buffalos. The buffalos parted and Will caught a glimpse of something white among the sea of brown fur. He yelled for his dad to come save his mom but Jonathan tipped his worn cowboy hat to his son. Will stared as Jonathan flickered in appearance to look like Fox Mulder- his real father- back to Jonathan. Will looked back at the stairs and saw the flames were gone.

In a flash, Will was outside, standing in a field. He heard something that sounded like thunder and looked behind him, buffalo were charging towards him. Will began running as the buffalo rushed past him. They were all heading towards a cliff. Will saw some buffalo run right off the cliff and fall helplessly into the canyon below. However, some buffalo jumped and burst into birds and flew away. Will kept running, his heart was racing and his lungs burned. Buffalo hurdled past him, he could hear their snorting, and soon Will knew he was nearing the canyon. Closing his eyes he jumped and found himself on the other side. Will skidded to a stop and turned around. He saw the birds up in the sky and saw one ominous looking one circling above him. Will turned back around and saw Madeline. She was wearing the dress from the photo. She smiled at him and all Will could think about was kissing her.

"No Will. It's not the right time," she said to him.

"When will it be?" He asked although he didn't know why.

She looked up at the sky and Will did the same. The large bird was coming closer to them. It flew past Will and landed on Madeline's outstretched arm. Will saw the bird was actually an owl. Madeline let the bird go and it flew up into the sky again. Will looked at Madeline and not far in the distance behind her was a coyote. Will never minded coyotes but this one looked especially vicious. The coyote treaded closer and closer to them until it appear that it was going to attack Madeline from behind.

"No!" Will shouted and lunged for Madeline. In that moment, Madeline disappeared and Will grabbed nothing and found himself falling into that canyon with the rest of the dead buffalo.

In his bed, Will woke up with a gasp. He looked around, trying to get his bearings in his room. He saw his picture hovering a foot above the desk next to his bed. He grabbed them and looked over at Madhav who was passed out on the keyboard of his laptop. Will began to breathe regular again and look at the photos. The glass in the frame of all three was cracked, with a crack splitting Will and Madeline.

* * *

Phoenix Memorial Hospital Morgue

Agent Roe typed in a 5 digit code the receptionist gave him on the keypad next to the morgue entrance. There was a faint buzz and the door slowly opened. Roe walked inside then groaned inwardly when he saw Agent Maura standing in the middle of the room. She made no acknowledgment that he had come in, but was aware he did, and continued making notes on her Tablet PC.

"Nice of you to finally make it," she said not looking up at him.

"There was a weather delay in Chicago. You could've put me on the non-stop flight you were on."

She tore her eyes away from the screen long enough to give him a sickly sweet smile. "I like to fly alone."

Roe fought the urge to retort something scathing and turned his attention to the case. He looked at the four bodies on the slabs before him, 2 females and 2 males. All four were Navajo and appeared to be over the age of 40.

"I assume you had time to read the coroner's report," Agent Maura said.

Roe nodded. Agent Maura looked at him expectantly, "Well?"

Roe gave her a bewildered look. "What?"

"Report," she said.

This time Roe couldn't help but grunt disgustedly and glare a little. A small smile played at the corners of her mouth as she bent her head to read the screen of her Tablet PC. He moved over to one of the males, "Ben Lopez, fifty-three, cause of death drowning."

"What makes his death significant to the investigation?"

"He was the first to die in a seven day period," Roe said.

Agent Maura made a note, "He was discovered in his bathroom, he had been setting up a shower stall when a pipe burst and he was locked inside. Tribal police found him after his brother called them."

Roe nodded, "I suppose I don't see the relevance."

"That's why these are being ruled unexplained," Agent Maura said. "Next one."

Roe moved to the next victim, a female. "Shonda Yazzie, 37 years old, car accident, killed on impact. She was in the passenger in the vehicle along with Christian Kinlichee, 45, he was taken to a hospital in Gallup, New Mexico. And later died of a blood clot that traveled up his femoral artery to his heart as a result of the wounds he sustained in the accident. The police were unable to determine how Kinlichee lost control of the vehicle before slamming into the pole. They suspect faulty mechanics but tests weren't conclusive."

"Very good. And the last one?"

Roe stopped. "Am I being punished?"

"What do you mean?"

"This is all rookie bullshit. I've been an Agent for 8 years, I don't need to be supervised by another Agent," he said.

She gave him a tight smile, "Minus the year and 3 months you spent recovering." She looked at him a little more serious, "I know you're not new to this, but it's always good to practice, it strengthens skills you may need later."

Roe moved over to the last victim. "Julie Begay, 49, police found her unconscious in front of the store she owned. The store was ransacked and windows broken. She died later in a Flagstaff hospital."

"What did she die of?"

"Um, intracranial hemorrhage."

"An extradural hematoma to be exact," Agent Maura corrected. "She suffered a blow to her temple." She did wake up at the hospital, long enough to say something before she slipped into a coma and died."

"I'm sorry that wasn't in the report I got."

"She said, 'I didn't hear them'," Agent Maura said.

Roe frowned. "Didn't hear who? Her attackers?"

"It would seem so. Good job Agent Roe, I'll be seeing you soon."

"Wait that's it?"

She nodded, "You have a case to investigate and I have reports to file. Good day." She walked out of the morgue.

Roe stayed there a minute, contemplating the victims. There had to be a common denominator between the four of them other than unexplained deaths. He knew that when a case didn't feel right, no matter how much it seemed to make sense, to follow his gut. And ever since he was called to A.D. Zora's office his gut had been screaming. This was something John Doggett, the hard-headed skeptic, had taught him. He left the room and emerged out into the lobby of the morgue.

A grin broke across his face. Up ahead was a Navajo man in a wheelchair. He had shoulder-length graying hair with bangs cut just about his eyes. Despite the gray, Eric Hosteen still looked much younger than his 41 years.

Eric saw Roe and waved in greeting. "Yá'át'ééh!" He said in Navajo.

Roe shook his head, "How are you?"

Eric smiled, "Good and yourself?"

"Can't complain."

"You came because of the deaths?"

"I wish this was a vacation, but yes."

Eric nodded, "Can the bodies be released for burial? They must have burial rites after the fourth day."

Roe knew, he remembered attending a burial ritual not long after he arrived on the reservation. "I'm sorry, Eric. I can't just yet."

Eric sighed even though he was a little peeved, "Okay." He pushed his wheelchair back through the lobby and Roe followed him out.

"So," Roe said as casually as he could. "Have you heard from Madeline?"

Eric shook his head, "Not since she left to England. Have you?"

"No," Roe said simply. "I was just wondering about her."

Eric wanted to go on talking but didn't. His friend seemed to be lost in thought now and Eric assumed it wasn't only about the investigation.

* * *

Bath, United Kingdom

John Doggett sighed inwardly as he took another swallow of his lukewarm beer. He missed America, especially at eating times. Even though he and his wife, Monica Reyes, had been living in Great Britain for the past 6 months he wasn't used to it, and he didn't think he'd ever be used to it.

Monica reached over and gently caressed his forearm. He looked up at her greenish-gray eyes and smiled despite himself. She always knew when something was bothering him and usually knew what it was too.

"Where is Gibson?" He asked in his raspy New-York flavored accent.

"Behind you," he said.

John turned around and sure enough Gibson Andrew Praise was standing behind him. "Where in the hell have you been?"

Gibson shook off his damp coat and smoothed his sandy-brown hair. "It started raining outside so I went back and grabbed a jacket."

John looked out the window; it was gray and drizzling, a typical English afternoon. He growled under his breath. "I'm all for a little rain but this is ridiculous."

Gibson and Monica grinned at each other, both knowing how John was. "How are you Gibson?" Monica asked changing the subject.

"All right," he replied.

"How's Madeline doing?" John asked.

Gibson hesitated only for a moment, "She's been having nightmares or visions. She won't say what they're about but one has to do with Will."

"She's okay though?" John was concerned. Madeline had stayed with him and Monica when they all moved to England to escape the people who had been after Will, Madeline and Gibson. John liked Madeline and had a fatherly affection for the girl. In a strange way, she reminded him of Luke, his deceased son.

"She's fine. Homesick."

John nodded, "She's not the only one."

Monica nudged John, signaling for him to quit grumbling.

"So why did Arthur call you?" Gibson asked.

John glowered a little at the mind-reader. He and Gibson were good friends but unlike everyone else he was still annoyed by Gibson's gifts. Between him and Monica, John felt he didn't have a single thought of his own.

Monica answered. "He's on the Navajo reservation in Window Rock, Arizona, working on a case. Four people have died mysteriously and he can't help but think something's up."

"Something is up," John declared. "And he's there with Eric Hosteen."

"Madeline's dad," Gibson mused. "This isn't a coincidence between Madeline's nightmare visions and these murders."

"Who said they were murders?" John asked.

Gibson smiled, "Well that's what you think they are. Besides I have a hunch too."

"I think Roe needs help," John said. "Otherwise why would he have called?"

"Maybe just to keep us in the loop," Monica suggested. "He said he would."

"Yeah," Gibson said. "But don't go to him. If he needs us he'll call. Don't tell Madeline either."

John frowned, "Why not?"

Gibson shrugged, "I don't think she can handle much. Her thoughts have been scattered."

"You said she was all right," John said.

"She is, but I think if she knew something bad was happening back home, she'd go back. And that's probably not a good idea."

John stood up, "Well, we'd better go. See ya Gibson."

"Bye," Gibson said. John walked out of the pub. Gibson turned to Monica. "I know," he said. "I'll try to not do it around him so often."

Monica sighed, "Thank you. You know how he feels about Madeline and Arthur. Arthur is like a son to him. So when he hears that they might be in trouble he still wants to play the cop and save them. He hasn't quite resigned to this quiet English life yet."

"You've both done the quiet life and you didn't like it much either," Gibson said.

She smiled, "Guilty. But I love him enough to do anything with him. And he's the same way." Monica got up. "I'll call you soon."

Gibson nodded, "Monica? I'm serious about going to see Roe. Don't let him do it."

She gave a short nod and walked out to join her husband.

* * *

Chipping Norton, United Kingdom

Will let himself in the front door of his parent's home. He dropped his book bag next to the door. Dana Scully came out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. She smiled when she saw her son.

"Hey there stranger," she said going and giving him a hug.

"Hi," he said returning the hug.

"How's school been?"

He shrugged, "Fine. School is school. Dr. Macleod says I'm the best student he's had in years."

She beamed, "That's great."

He followed her into the kitchen where she put a kettle on for tea. "How are you?" He asked.

Scully looked at him, "Fox has been driving me up the wall. I think he's excited you're here for the weekend."

At that moment, Fox Mulder came in from the back door. "Hey Will," he said. He tossed the younger male a baseball. "Come on and we'll toss the ball around. There's a game on TV later, we can go down to the pub and watch it."

Will looked at his mother. She just chuckled, "I told you."

"Actually," Will began reluctantly, "Gibson and I were going to catch a movie in London."

Mulder's face fell. "Oh, well. Tomorrow then."

"Sorry," he said as he gave the ball back to Mulder.

"No problem," he clapped a hand on Will's back to show he wasn't hurt, much. Will tensed and Mulder felt it. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Will said quickly. "I've had a headache all week."

Scully looked concerned, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's cool. I'll see you guys later." Will said and left the house.

Mulder rubbed the baseball in his hand and sat down at the table. Scully served him a cup of tea and poured on for herself. "Is it just me or has he been strange lately?" She asked him.

"He's your son," Mulder said.

"Oh right, because we all know I'm the strange one," she said. "But you're right. Since he and Madeline stopped talking he's been like this."

"Laconic and taciturn?"

"It's a teenage boy thing." Scully said. "Don't you remember?"

"I recall it. But I was never laconic."

"That's for sure," she teased. Her face got gentle. "You have to give him time Mulder. We are apart of his life now and he still has to get used to it. His whole was turned around in a moment and he can't get it back."

Mulder looked away. It had been almost 30 years and he still blamed himself for the way Scully's life had changed. It didn't matter how many times Scully said to him that it didn't matter, he still felt in some part responsible. It was in this time his belief in destiny faltered.

"Don't," she said. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" He asked innocently.

"I know your faces Mulder," she said. "Just don't."

He rolled his eyes, not wanting to argue with her, especially since she was right. "Wow, you've taken on a whole new Buddhist-like way of dealing with him."

"I've always been your rock, Mulder," she smiled. The phone trilled and Scully got up to answer it. "Mulder, it's for you," she said. He took the phone from her, pausing to give a quick kiss which made her smile. She walked out of the kitchen.

"Hello?"

"It is an old maxim of mine that w hen you have excluded the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth," a familiar voice said on the other line.

Mulder smirked. He knew who was on the other end of the line. "Agent Roe."

"Mr. Muldrake, how are you?"

"Good."

"And the weather?"

"Rainy as usual. How is it where you are?"

"Warm during the day. Chilly at night. The coyotes like it."

Roe was in the desert, probably in the Southwestern United States. "Are you calling for a reason or are you that interested by the weather?" Mulder asked getting along to the point of Roe's call.

Roe cleared his throat. "All riddles aside, I may need your help."

"I offered you help last year, you turned me down and returned to Washington."

"You needed an inside man, John backed me," Roe said. "I'm in Window Rock with Eric Hosteen. Four people have died; I can't shake the feeling that they were murdered even though all evidence points to the contrary."

"So what can I do for you?" Mulder asked.

"I'm at a dead end. I'd appreciate you lending a hand out here."

Mulder was quiet, "Window Rock?"

"Navajoland, yeah."

"You're with Eric?"

"He's around."

Mulder thought quietly. A possible X-File type investigation truly intrigued him. As much as did enjoy his quiet life, he did miss the thrill of a mystery. But he didn't have just himself to think of. He heaved a sigh, "I'm sorry Agent Roe. My family comes first."

"I understand. Thank you anyways."

"Yeah," Mulder said as they hung up the phone. "Yeah."

* * *

Gibson's House

Will knocked on the front door. He felt guilty for not spending time with Mulder. For a moment he contemplated asking Gibson for a rain check and heading back to catch the baseball game. The door opened and Madeline stood there as surprised as he was.

Madeline crossed her arms and stepped back in a sullen manner. "Gibson isn't here."

It took Will a moment to find his voice again. He hadn't seen Madeline in almost 8 weeks (not counting in that dream) and he suddenly found himself missing her terribly. "Oh, well…" he stammered. "That's okay, I was going to blow off the movie anyways."

Madeline nodded, "I'll tell him when he gets back."

"Thanks," he said. "Um, how are you?"

"Okay, I guess. And you?"

"About the same."

"I saw your mother the other day. She asked if we had talked."

"Yeah, she still doesn't know we're not talking."

_Yes, she did_, Madeline thought but didn't say anything. "

Will's cell phone rings. "It's Gibson," he said and answers it.

Madeline turned away. She had been dreading seeing Will since she had stopped seeing him. She touched her neck and fingered a silver chain.

"Will I can't do this anymore," she had said.

"Do what?" he asked.

"Be with you!"

He looked at her with such bewilderment and shock that his face was almost laughable. "Are you serious?"

"I don't know. I think we were thrown into a situation and were told to love each other."

"Told? By who?"

"By everyone. By strangers and…" She stopped and recollected her thoughts. "There is a bond between us. Between you and I and Gibson, that's something we all feel. But I can't feel like my feelings, the feelings I have for you are fabricated. And you can't tell me you haven't thought the same thing."

Will shook his head, "I have but I still remember what I thought the first time I saw you and that wasn't invented by a team of doctors who created us in a lab!"

Madeline stared at him and he continued. "Yeah, I know you think that. But we weren't invented."

"You don't know that," she said. "We are orphans Will. My mother died giving birth to me and you lost the only parents you knew."

"We still have parents. You have your dad and Mulder and Dana have been great."

She rolled her eyes, "You're still having a hard time calling them mom and dad, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but that's not the problem here now… Madeline what do you want?"

"I…" she looked away helplessly then back into his blue-green eyes. "I think we rushed into a relationship and…" her voice broke, "I don't think we should see each other for a little while."

Will had stared at her. It was if he didn't believe her. "Okay," he said. "Okay."

He got up and walked out the door.

"Madeline?" Will dared to shake her so that she came out of her little daydream. "Are you okay?"

She looked at him, "Yeah. What did Gibson say?"

"We're going to meet there at the theater. I'll see you… later." He said leaving.

"Bye," she said softly. Alone now, she tugged on the silver chain and hidden in her shirt, brought out a turquoise pendant that hung on the chain. It was an oval turquoise stone set in a sterling silver pendant that was encircled by an intricately crafted sterling silver feather. Will had given it to her for her birthday in January and she loved it.

Suddenly Madeline grabbed her head and screamed in pain. In a flash she saw Roe and Mulder together. They were in New Mexico and in trouble. Someone was after them, they were hiding. Madeline screamed as the pain in her head became too intense for her to stand. She collapsed on the floor, lifeless.


End file.
